Moments
by TradYes
Summary: AU - A modern version of Sybil and Branson's relationship.
1. What Just Happened?

**Moments_  
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_Note: This is the first story I have ever written. I should also note that English is not my first language. Why I'm so obsessed with making Sybil and Tom modern, I have no idea. They feel very contemporary to me._

_Reviews are very welcome of course._

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><p><strong>1. What Just Happened?<strong>

Tom took a seat in the back of the class and slipped his coat onto the chair. Students started filing into the room and he felt himself reminded of his own days as a student at the Trinity College in Dublin. These young people here looked nice enough, but then it was his first presentation of the kind, and he seemed to remember quite clearly the fun he and his mates used to poke at whoever was standing in front of the class. It all seemed like ages ago now.

The last student had now taken his place and Professor Stein, the short white-haired scholar who had invited him to speak today, began his lecture. Ten minutes in, a loud bang against the door woke up half the class, as well as an embarrassed Tom, who had been dosing off himself.

He started at the noise when in burst a young woman, flushed red and snow flakes still melting into her black hair, who was carrying a bag and a heap of heavy books. "I'm so sorry, missed my train", she excused the disruption.

"That's fine, Miss Crawley, just take a seat", replied the professor with a kind smile. He seemed to like her. The girl nodded gratefully and hurried to a free seat in the back. On the way she caught her foot on somebody's backpack and the pile of books tumbled to the floor with another bang. "Shit, shit, shit, shit..." she muttered under her breath as she slid the strap of her bag off her shoulder and knelt down to collect her books.

Tom knew immediately that the gallant thing to do would be to pick them up for her. After all, he was only inches away from her, but he found himself frozen in his place, staring at the striking young women who was swearing on the floor.

She was wearing warm boots, a short denim skirt and thick black tights underneath. A scarf in all colours of the rainbow tumbled down over her grey winter coat. As she knelt, loose strands of her raven curls, which were swept up into a messy ponytail, fell into her eyes and caught in her long eyelashes. Irritated, she blew her fringe from her eyes, collected her books, and with a final bang, sat down on the chair in front of Tom. "Sorry", she repeated in a husky voice. The professor rolled his eyes at her, smirked and continued his lecture.

From his seat in the back, Tom could not stop staring at the dark-haired woman in front of him. Slightly to the side, he could see her profile and long eyelashes. She really was remarkably beautiful. Smooth ivory skin, unruly black hair, long slender neck...

When she suddenly whipped around, he felt like he'd been caught red-handed. He seemed to flush a deep crimson when she exclaimed: "What on earth..." His lips were dry. He opened his mouth to speak.

"That wasn't even the question", she went on. "What would've happened if the IRA hadn't split up into two camps is not the issue here. We should be more interested in what consequences it brought on. I thought this was "Political Ireland" and not "Speculation 101".

Tom heard a flustered huff from the student sitting next to him. _What, _thought Tom. _She isn't speaking to me_. He smiled relieved. And audible sigh escaped his lips. _Just stop looking at her, eegit_, he said to himself and kept his eyes trained on the desk in front of him.

"Miss Crawley, please don't eat poor Mr Walker alive back there. He was only offering his opinion", smirked Professor Stein. "Sorry", muttered the girl and smiled apologetically at the young man, Mr Walker apparently. Tom looked up from his desk and couldn't help grinning at her spirited outburst. Who'd understand better than him such passion for Ireland and politics?

When she turned around to face the front again, the girl's eyes caught Tom's wandering gaze. She stopped mid-turn, and the apologetic smile she had given her opponent sank from her eyes. As their gazes locked, he was struck for the first time by how intensely blue her eyes were. Bright blue, deep blue, brilliant blue, intently looking at his face. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours. When a slight blush started to creep up to her smooth cheeks, she tore her gaze from his and turned around.

He could only see her back again, but it was different from before. She was aware of him now. Passionate as she had been, she did not offer another argument for the remainder of the lecture. Every now and then she tilted her head ever so slightly to the right, searching for only a peripheral glimpse of him.

Tom's heart fluttered. What had just happened? Had this beautiful, smart young woman noticed him? In the same way he had noticed her when she'd come in? Her eyes so blue, her gaze so intent. Had she been as struck by their short encounter as he had been? "... and so it is a great honour to present, all the way from Ireland, the editor of _Politics_ for the _Dublin Times_, Mr Thomas Branson!"

_Branson? Wait, that is my name. What? Oh, shite. The presentation!_ He jumped to his feet, confused still from the rollercoaster ride his mind had taken for the last fifteen minutes. In a daze he struggled to the front, passing her on the way.

"Welcome, and thank you for coming all the way from Dublin, Mr Branson", repeated Professor Stein and shook his hand. "Not at all, thank you for inviting me to speak", Tom managed to reply and his own Irish brogue felt foreign to him in this Yorkshire classroom. He swept strands of dark blond hair from his forehead. Those eyes. There she was, looking at him again, as intently as before. Only now did he take in her frame, her small figure, slight build, her delicate nose and sensual lips. _Stop staring, eegit. Presentation time now_, he reminded himself and shook himself out of his musings.

Tom began rattling off what he'd learned by heart in preparation for today. How he'd been a taxi driver to finance his studies, how hard he'd worked for his Political Science degree, how he'd come to write a weekly column on politics for a small independent paper, and how he'd eventually become the editor of the _Politics_ section for the _Dublin Times_. And all the while, he felt her blue eyes upon him, burning into his.

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><p>Finally, his presentation was done. Now it was time for questions. "How to get into journalism?", "How well does it pay?", "Are there things you're not allowed to write about?" and so on and on. He answered them as best he could. But when he saw another hand up, her hand, he could not think what to say. He gulped but his throat seemed to him a desert.<p>

"Yes, Miss Crawley has her hand up there, Mr Branson", the professor interrupted his little spell of panic. "Miss Crawley, please", he breathed. He found himself wondering what her first name was.

"Mr Branson, from your description I infer that you write about Ireland's current politics as well as issues of the past? Could you elaborate on that?" She had the most gorgeous husky quality to her voice. Again her stare made him weak in the knees and he was at a complete loss for words. How to answer accurately and impress her at the same time? Luckily - or was it unfortunately? – the professor interrupted at this precise moment.

"I'm afraid we don't have time for another question after all, our time is up. If you'd like to bring up your point again next week, Miss Crawley, we can discuss it in more detail. Everybody, give a big hand to Mr Branson for his insight into life as a political journalist."

As they all applauded, Tom tried to catch a glimpse of Miss Crawley, but Professor Stein was already drawing him into a discussion of the lecture. When the mob of students cleared, he could see her. She was still sitting at her desk, sorting out the load of books she'd dropped earlier. She raised her gaze to his and he thought he'd seen an imperceptible smile. A nod maybe? He wanted to go over to her, talk to her. Ask her name. But the professor kept on talking and talking, not noticing how distracted Tom was. Was she waiting for him? She might well have been, but when there seemed no end to the professor's comments on the lecture, she got up. Strategically balancing the books now, she left the room, but not without looking back at him once more with those hypnotic eyes.


	2. Let Me Get You a New Cup

_Note: Thank you all for the lovely reviews. Very encouraging. Here's my second chapter, I hope you'll enjoy it. Lots more to come if you do._

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><p><strong>2. Let Me Get You a New Cup<strong>

Tom was still thinking about the beautiful Miss Crawley on his way to the university cafeteria the next day. He wrapped his red scarf tighter around his neck and rubbed his hands together. The snow crunched under his feet and his hot breath painted misty clouds into the winter air. All afternoon after his presentation he'd been thinking about the wondrous encounter in the classroom, of the electricity shared in mere moments of interlocking gazes. The young woman – and he was rather embarrassed to admit this even to himself – had even managed to work her way into his dreams. There she'd been, snow in her hair, like an angel...

He stepped into the warm building. People shuffling to and fro with books – the library was located next to the cafeteria - passed him by. He wiped his feet at the door and marched up to the self-service coffee machine. The steaming dark liquid poured into his paper cup and he quickly pressed the lid on it to conserve the heat. When he turned around, he collided with something, someone.

"Oh shit", a familiar voice shouted. Familiar only from having been replayed in his head for twenty-four hours. He looked up to see those magnetic blue eyes and they were even more beautiful than he had repainted them in his mind.

"I'm so sorry, shit, shit..." she rambled on while she knelt to wipe down her books, which had become soaked in Tom's coffee in the collision.

"You do love that word, don't you?" he said with a smirk.

"What? Oh, it's you! Mr Branson, right?" she replied and scrambled to her feet. He nodded.

"Yes, I fear I've developed quite the habit for swearing. I'm so clumsy sometimes. I'm really very sorry. Here, let me get you a new cup." She pushed her damp books into his hands – he had once more failed to gallantly pick them up for her - and reached for a new paper cup. Pressing close to get past him, he could smell her shampoo.

"Ouch!"

"Oh, I'm sorry! Did I step on your foot? Shit. Sorry. Didn't mean to say that anymore. You know what, why don't you sit down at that table over there and I'll get us two cups. Seems safer somehow", she suggested and gave him a dazzling smile. He nodded, feeling like a complete fool again – she did that to him for some reason - and sat down at a small table on the far side of the cafeteria. He placed her books on a spare chair and found himself nervously putting them in alphabetical order, when she appeared with two steaming cups of coffee.

"There you go. Again, I'm very sorry", she said and smiled.

"Don't worry about it. If it gets me a cup of coffee with you, I'd happily get scalded and stepped on again", he grinned. _What? Where had that confidence come from? What did you do, eegit?_ Tom scolded himself.

But she didn't look appalled, just smiled a sweet smile and began "So, Mr Branson...".

"Tom, please", he interrupted.

"Alright, Tom then. I'm Sybil by the way." Sybil. It fit. Beautiful Sybil Crawley. "I enjoyed your lecture yesterday enormously. Very insightful."

Tom smiled. "Thank you. You raised some interesting points. About current and past events I think?"

"Yes. I am rather interested in the history of Ireland. Which is obviously why I took the course. But politics in general interest me a great deal. I'm quite fascinated by the suffragette movement at the moment. What glorious women they were", she exclaimed with a passion reminding him of her verbal attack on a fellow student the day before.

"I take it you're interested in women's rights?" he asked. This young woman was completely fascinating. A sharp mind on top of such beauty. Why had he never met such a woman back home?

"I guess I am. What about you? You're the one with the Political Science degree after all. I'm afraid I've never read your column, is it mostly about independence for Ireland?"

"That too. But I'm not all about these things. I recently wrote a piece about the discrepancies still existent between the rich and the poor. I mean, it's not like it used to be with gentlefolk and such but still..." his thoughts drifted off.

Her husky voice disrupted his train of thought. "It seems rather unlikely, a revolutionary cabbie." And she smirked at him so flirtatiously that he felt goose bumps running up and down his arms.

"I'm a socialist, not a revolutionary. Anyway, I'm not a cabbie anymore", he retorted with a grin. She had paid quite the attention to his presentation, hadn't she?

"You will be disappointed to hear that one of my ancestors was actually an Earl. Lord Whatshisname. _Grantham_ or something I think. Or was it _of Grantham_?" She took one last swig from her cup and skilfully threw it into the bin behind Tom.

"Well, if that's the case, would you care for another cup of coffee, Lady Sybil?" he asked with a smirk.

"Certainly. Thank you, Branson", she teased and flashed him a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

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><p>"So what's it like having two older sisters? Your father must be terrified half the time", Tom asked. Two hours and two cups of coffee later, they were still sitting at their table, talking about anything and everything. Sybil had turned out to be an eager student of politics and he enjoyed giving her pointers. As they had drifted off to his life in Ireland and his family, Tom found himself wondering what use there was in forming a bond with the young woman opposite him. They came from different worlds. He would go back to his when his term as supply teacher ended in three short months. Already she had too much of a hold on him.<p>

But still he could not stop talking to her. She had bewitched him. Her inquisitive mind, the flirtatious banter, her exquisite beauty. Everything drew him to her like a moth was drawn to the light.

"It's alright I guess. They can be rather bitchy sometimes. And they can't stand the sight of each other most of the time. I seem to always get caught in the middle. Mary, the eldest, she's in this constant on-again-off-again relationship with her boyfriend Matthew. And don't we know when it's off-again", she rolled her eyes dramatically. "Edith is nice enough. She's always been decent, at least to me. But I can't say I'm particularly sad to have moved out for uni."

She laughed. Another breathtaking feature, her clear, honest laugh. Tom's heart fluttered. Might be the coffee. Might be her.

"My parents are what you'd call rich folk? Not a life I wanted to be honest. I wouldn't even let them pay for uni. You'd be proud of me" and she gave him such a goofy wink that he burst out laughing.

From the sound of it, not a family who'd be particularly fond of their youngest dating an Irish journalist. Wait, what was he thinking here? Hadn't he just decided that it made no sense to pursue anything? Her being so perfect tended to make him forget that fact. What a future he could imagine with such a woman, it was downright impossible not to dream of it.

A loud ringing sound tore him from his daydreams. Sybil had already jumped to her feet and picked up her mobile. She walked a couple of steps, then turned around and returned to the table, looking disappointed. "Shit, I am so sorry but I have to go. I volunteer at the hospital three days a week."

"First Lady Sybil, now Nurse Crawley. Whatever am I going to call you?" he jested and succeeded when a short smile crossed her face.

"I really enjoyed our talk", she said while wrapping the colourful scarf around her neck. She pulled her dark curls out from underneath it and shook her head.

"Do it again some time?" Tom asked shyly.

"Of course!" she exclaimed and the happiness was apparent on her face.

"Wait, just... let me give you my number." She started rummaging through her bag. "Pen, pen, pen, pen..." She pulled out a ridiculously large, bright pink pen. "Don't judge me. It was given to me. I think. I hope." She grinned and started neatly writing her number on Tom's hand. "I know, it's very rom-com of me. But I don't have paper. And look, I even wrote on the back of your hand so it can't smudge."

Like he'd paid any attention to the actual writing. The way she was holding his hand steady with her free hand was of far more interest to him. His skin seemed to burn where they were touching. He couldn't believe his luck that this gorgeous woman wanted him to call her. To see him again. And even after he'd spoken, too. He smiled. Sybil put the pen back into her bag but held onto his hand for just a fraction of a second longer.

"I hope this is your real number", he joked nervously.

"Like I'd take any chances", she replied. "I really have to run, call me? Soon?"

At the door, she turned and gave him another smile. Her most beautiful smile yet.


	3. Where Are You Taking Me?

_Note: Since you have all been so kind with your reviews, I have decided to upload one new chapter of this story every day. I have already written most of the story but I will try to incorporate some of your great suggestions.  
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_Thank you again for the reviews. I never expected it. X_

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><p><strong>3. Where Are You Taking Me?<strong>

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Hello?" Her voice caught him by surprise. He'd replayed their coffee date over and over again in his mind but the real thing never failed to catch him off-guard.

"Sybil?" he inquired sheepishly.

"Yes. Who is it?" she replied patiently.

"It's Tom. Branson. You gave me your number?"

"Who? Describe yourself, will you? I give my number to so many people" she said flatly. Tom was at a loss for words. "Tom? You still there?" Her voice cracked and he could hear her soft laugh fill the line. "I'm sorry. I'm horrible. You just sounded so intimidated, I couldn't help myself."

Tom was flustered. "Ok", was all he managed.

"Tom, I really am sorry. I find myself having to say that a lot to you. But I am. And I do know who you are. You're the socialist Irishman with the gorgeous blue eyes. And I'm happy you called." Just like that.

"I meant to call sooner. I'm afraid I even did the odd hang-up. I know, very rom-com of me", he laughed, repeating her words from the other day while regaining his confidence.

"Sweet", she said. His cheeks flushed and suddenly he was happy they were not talking face to face.

"So all those men you give your number to, what do you usually do when they call?" he asked boldly.

"Ignore them. But with you, I hope very much that you'll invite me to dinner." He could almost hear her beautiful smile.

"Dear Lady Sybil, would you be so kind as to consider going to dinner with me?"

After a rocky start, he'd easily slipped back into their flirtatious banter.

"I would", she replied. "I'm considering... Yes, I would love dinner." He pictured her in her flat, clutching the phone and smiling dazzlingly.

"When are you free? I'm afraid I have work tonight but tomorrow would be good," he said and now wished he actually were talking to her face to face.

"Perfect. Around eight? Just let me give you my address."

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><p>He pulled up the rental car in front of a large building. Student housing. Much nicer than his had been, he might add. He got out of the car and was on his way to ring her flat when she came rushing down the stairs and out the front door. She was bundled up in her thick grey coat and rainbow scarf.<p>

"Tom", she exclaimed out of breath. "I'm so glad. I thought you might've reconsidered after the stunt I pulled on the phone." She seemed genuinely relieved. Had she really thought he wouldn't show? Since he had decided just this morning that he'd be more confident from now on – after all such a woman was unlikely to be swept off her feet by a babbling idiot – he just smiled broadly and brushed his lips against her cheek.

Maybe he had overestimated his confidence. The smell of her hair and the touch of her skin made him feel dizzy. But when he pulled away, he noticed that she didn't seem to fare any better than himself.

"Wow", she breathed and leaned against his arm for a moment. He smiled at her reaction and went to open the door of the ancient Renault for her before getting in on his side. "Quite the gentleman", she remarked as he took his seat.

"Not really. If I remember correctly I've neglected to pick up your books for you. Twice." He smiled and started the car.

"Not your fault that I seem to keep dropping things around you", she grinned.

They spent the car ride in silence. Tom was somewhat relieved to notice that even the confident Sybil had become a little nervous at the thought of them spending an entire evening together. Or maybe it was the kiss that had done it. He fervently hoped that she didn't think him too forward. He looked over to her gazing into the ink-blue sky and, noticing him watching, she turned to him and smiled.

"So where are you taking me?" she asked into the silence of the car.

"The_ Swan Inn_. Have you ever been there? It's nice. Nothing fancy but I like it", Tom replied.

"I have. Once. With my sisters and our friend Anna. Actually my sisters and I got into quite a fight." She laughed. When she noticed his hesitance she quickly added: "But the food was great. It's a good choice." She reached over and touched his cheek reassuringly. How familiar they were with each other already. He felt like he had always known her. And, more frighteningly, like he always would know her. What was it about her that kept pushing visions of the future into his head?

He pulled up in front of the _Swan Inn_ and went to hold the door open for Sybil, but she had already climbed out of the car. "Women's rights, huh?" he smirked and she nodded.

"Women's rights begin at home." There it was again, the sweetest goofy wink he had ever seen.

"Well, I'm all for that", he replied and led her into the Inn.

As they were shown to their table, Sybil took off her thick coat and Tom was once more taken aback by her appearance. Having only ever seen her in winter clothes, he had not imagined what she looked like all made-up. She was wearing a simple old-fashioned black satin dress with golden flowers embroidered at the top. The skirt fell in big waves to her knees. A long black necklace and matching earrings set of her ivory complexion perfectly. Even her unruly hair had been brushed into submission and pinned up at the back.

"You look beautiful", he said.

"Thank you. I haven't worn this in ages. Just trying to air it out", she smiled.

When they reached their table he marched up to his chair and sat down. "What?" he asked, looking innocently at a flustered Sybil. "Women's rights!" She laughed loudly and sat down across from him.

"You know it's not just a temporary fancy of mine though, right? I mean about women's rights? I do fully intend to do something, achieve something when I have my degree", said Sybil more seriously when she had settled down in her chair.

"I know. I admire that. Don't think I am making fun of you." He smiled at her. "So what are you thinking about?"

"I'm not sure yet. Go into politics probably. It's what I have always wanted."

"Well, I for one hope you do. It's a fine ambition."

"Did you know that women have only had the right to vote since 1918? And only married women of property then. Isn't that just ridiculous?"

"It is rather", replied Tom, admiring once again her passion for the subject.

"I definitely would have been a suffragette back in the days. Gone to all sorts of exciting rallies. I have nothing but respect for these women. I probably wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for them", Sybil said emphatically. "Although, of course, women are still being paid about 25 percent less than men for doing the same work. And did you know more women go to university nowadays than men?" Her face became animated by the subject.

"I did. And I do not wonder at it. I have always rather thought women were the smarter sex of the two. And I should know, I have first-hand experience of the simplicity of the male mind." He grinned at her.

"I'm serious", exclaimed Sybil but she could not quite suppress the smile bubbling up to the corners of her mouth.

"I know", Tom replied more seriously. "And I agree with you. Something must be done about it. It's the 21st century after all. Some of the things going on today are just ridiculous. And not just about women."

"I suppose where I would have been a suffragette, you would have been in the IRA. Independence for Ireland, no? I think _you_ would make a rather good politician as well", said Sybil earnestly and he knew she meant what she said.

"Maybe. But I'll stick to writing for now. I'll leave that to you", he smiled and continued. "You're such a free spirit. I admire that."

"So are you. I bet you would have been a conscientious objector back in the days of the war?" He was surprised at how well she could already judge his character. His opposition to the war had by no means been obvious.

"I would! But I don't think I would have been called up anyway. I... I have a heart murmur, you know. Or, to be more precise, a mitral valve prolapse is causing a pansystolic murmur." He smirked. "Or so the doctor tells me."

Sybil had gone quiet. "I don't know what to say. Is it dangerous?"

"It's not." He smiled reassuringly and wanted to reach for her hand, when the waiter came up to the table to take their order.

When they had ordered, Sybil and Tom fell silent. He tried to find her eyes with his and their gazes interlocked like they had when they'd first met. He explored every inch of her sparkling blue eyes.

As his eyes bored into hers, Sybil giggled shyly. "I'm sorry. You just make me nervous. Has anyone ever told me you have the most amazingly intent eyes?"

"Me?" he asked in disbelief.

"No. Uncle Tom Cobley", she joked and thus broke the tension. They both laughed. "This is silly. I feel like a teenager", she reasoned. "Speaking of, how old are you anyway? Having a degree and such. A proper job."

She was right. He had never even asked her how old she was. _Oh God, what if she's only 18? Students can be 18_, he thought to himself. "I'm twenty-eight. You?" he asked warily.

"Twenty-one." Tom breathed in relief. Thank God.

"So you'll be finished with uni in, what? Three years?" Why had he just asked her that? Did it sound like mere interest or like maybe he was planning a future for them? Was he? Three years was a long time...

"Two if I'm lucky", she replied. Maybe she was thinking of the future, too. He was really getting ahead of himself here. "How long are you staying in England for", she asked casually.

"Three months, until the end of the term." She looked disappointed, didn't she? Was he reading too much into her expression?

"It's not really going anywhere then, is it?" she noted woefully. So he wasn't reading too much into it.

"I don't know", he whispered. Before he could think of anything to comfort her, the waiter appeared with their order.

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><p>Sybil laughed so hard that tears sprang to her eyes. Her face was flushed and a few black curls had come loose from her do only to fall into her blue eyes. They had not spoken much over dinner but when the dessert arrived, they had gotten back into their natural rhythm. They talked about everything, politics, their families and whatever else came to mind. Tom watched Sybil intently as she clasped her napkin against her mouth to suppress her laughter.<p>

He admired how little she cared about her appearance. When he took her home in the car, she rolled down the window and stuck her head out into the wind. Her wily hair leapt at the chance to come free and tumbled over her bare shoulders. "Sybil, you'll catch your death! At least put on your coat!" Tom shouted against the noise. Sybil pulled her head back in from the cold and rolled up the window. She smiled and put on her coat and scarf. Her face was bright red from the cold and her hair was a complete mess.

"I'm sorry. I've loved doing that ever since I was little." She took his hand from the gear and laced her fingers through his.

However had this utterly perfect woman burst into his life? He pressed her hand and felt a shiver go up his spine. He might have missed Ireland during his first days in Yorkshire but now he thought of his return with dread. But they had three months at least. He pushed the thought away and decided to enjoy what he could of his time with her. He pulled up to her building and turned off the engine. They both sat silently, their hands still entwined. The car grew colder.

"Do you want to come up?" she whispered almost inaudibly. Tom nodded silently. "Only for coffee. That is all until..." she stopped.

"I wasn't going to ask for anything else, Sybil", Tom said emphatically and gave her hand another squeeze.

She smiled. "Coffee then."


	4. Will You Stay With Me?

**4. Will You Stay With Me?**

Sybil closed the door behind him and took off her coat. They had held hands on the way up to her flat and his palm was still tingling from the sensation of her touch. From the moment they entered, Tom was in love with her flat. It was completely, essentially Sybil. From the colourful curtains, to the pictures on the wall, to the mess of clothes heaped onto a chair. There was a small kitchen area in the back corner and a separate bathroom adjoining the room. The bed was unmade and clothes were scattered all over the place.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting company", said Sybil and started whirling around the room, picking up clothes here and there and straightening out the duvet on the bed. "Please, sit down. I'll make you that cup of coffee I promised."

Tom smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed while Sybil went off to the kitchenette and put on the kettle. Tom looked around the room. Pictures of people he assumed to be friends and family members were assorted into a colourful collage above the bed. Tom could not help wondering if, maybe one day, there would be a picture of him up there.

"Are these your sisters?" Tom pointed at a picture of Sybil with two young women. The one on the left was remarkably beautiful. So it ran in the family. Sybil crossed the room with two mugs in her hands and set them down on the desk next to the bed.

"Yes. This is Mary and this Edith. Actually getting along for once." Like he had thought, the dark-haired girl was her eldest sister. "And these are my parents." Sybil pointed at a picture showing a sturdy, kindly man with thinning hair and a surprisingly young-looking woman with the same dark hair and blue eyes he so admired in her daughter. They looked nice enough. Maybe they weren't as strict as he had imagined.

Sybil was still looking at the picture, tilting her head and looking more beautiful than ever, with her dark curls falling into her face. He would really like to kiss her.

"I would really like to kiss you." Had he just said that out loud? Sybil looked up in surprise at his honest declaration. A nervous smile crossed her face as she nodded slightly.

"Yes, you can kiss me."

He moved in slowly and paused inches away from her. His right hand went up to her face and he gently stroked her smooth cheek. Her skin was even softer than he had imagined. He could smell her hair and his heart started beating so hard he felt it would break his chest. She smiled and moved her own hand up to his neck, pulling him even closer. Her fingers played with strands of his dark blond hair.

As their lips touched, Tom could not seem to put his thoughts in order. Everything around them faded away. Her warm, soft lips moving against his. The smell of her skin. After only a brief moment, Sybil pulled away from him. Her blue eyes searched for his gaze. "You cannot break my heart, alright?" she whispered. He smiled and pulled her in for another kiss.

"I'm afraid the coffee might've gone cold", breathed Sybil as she pulled away for a second time. She gave him one of her most flirtatious smiles and moved over to the desk. "There, that's safer", she said as she sat down on a chair opposite Tom.

"I'm sorry", he said. "I just couldn't help myself. You are so..." He was at a loss for words. No word seemed quite adequate to describe what he felt.

"So?" she inquired with a smirk.

"Perfect."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't think perfection exists. And if it does... well, then it's definitely not me." She took a sip from her mug. "Still warm."

Tom took his mug from the desk and settled back on the bed. He had taken off his shoes and pulled up his legs. Give her some space.

"I didn't mean it like that", laughed Sybil. "I just don't think that dropping stuff all over the place constitutes as perfect."

Tom grinned. "Neither does standing by and not picking them up for you." Sybil looked at him with that intent gaze of hers, then smiled provocatively and went over to a shelf which was brimful with paperbacks. She turned back to look at him as she randomly picked up two or three books and let them drop to the floor with pretend surprise. Tom burst out laughing.

"Here's your chance, gentleman", she said mockingly.

Tom stood up and knelt down at her feet to examine her books. "Byatt, Gregory, Austen. Aha."

Sybil crouched down next to him. "Shit, I dropped the Austen?" she joked and picked up _Emma_ to put it back into its place, when Tom snatched it from her hands.

"Will you please let _me_ do that, Lady Sybil?" He quickly brushed his lips against her hand and replaced all three books on the shelf.

"So what is your paper doing without you anyway?" inquired Sybil when they had settled back onto the bed.

"It's hardly my paper, I only edit the _Politics_ section. And I'm still doing most of that from here. Wonders of the digital age", replied Tom. "And you? How did you come to work at the hospital?"

Sybil took a sip from her coffee. "I just... this is going to sound pretentious, but I just felt like I wanted to be useful. You know? All my life I've been spoiled and fussed over by my parents. That just wasn't the life I wanted."

Tom took Sybil's hand in his. "It doesn't sound pretentious."

This time their kiss was different. Not as tame and shy as before. Sybil gasped as Tom ran his tongue over her bottom lip and pulled her closer by the hip. She wrapped both arms around his neck and their bodies pressed closer together. Tom wanted more of her, all of her. He deepened their kiss even more and traced her tongue with his. A deep moan escaped the back of her throat. He could feel the goose bumps on her bare arms as he wrapped her in a tight embrace.

This time Tom was the one to pull out of the kiss first. Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against hers. She looked up into his eyes and smiled. Gently, she traced small kisses along his jaw and buried her head in his shoulder. He could feel her in every fibre of his body. Like he was going to burst. He hugged her tighter.

"I don't want you to go yet", she whispered into his neck.

"Let's do something then. Watch a film, what do you think?" he suggested and stroked her hair. She pulled away and looked at him affectionately, obviously grateful that he wasn't going to try breaking the promise he had made in the car.

"I'm afraid I'm a little girly when it comes to films", she said as she pulled a drawer of DVDs out from under her bed. Was there anything she could possibly say that wouldn't make him like her more?

"Which one is your favourite?" he asked and smiled when she picked out _Pride and Prejudice_.

"I know, I know. I'm a walking cliché", she grinned. "We don't have to watch it though. Wouldn't want to frighten you off."

He smiled and took the DVD from her. "_Pride and Prejudice_ it is. And I won't be frightened off. Nothing could. Besides, I like the book."

She looked up in surprise. "So maybe perfection does exist after all", she noted and went to put on the film.

* * *

><p>Before the infamous Mr Darcy had even made his first appearance, Sybil had dosed off in Toms arms. He looked down at her lovingly and brushed a black curl from her face. She was breathing quietly and he shifted slightly so that her head was placed comfortably on his chest. She stayed asleep all through the film, sighing quietly from time to time. Tom felt like he had never been happier. Just holding her, every now and then breathing a light kiss onto her forehead. Mr Darcy could not have put it into better words. She had bewitched him, body and soul.<p>

He quietly switched off the telly and gently lay Sybil down on her pillow. As he pulled up the blanket, a sleepy sigh escaped her lips. "Tom?" He traced his finger along her cheek. "Will you stay with me?" Tom smiled to himself and lay down beside her on the bed. She huddled against him and he wrapped his arms around her. "Did you watch the whole thing?" she asked sleepily.

"I did. It's a good film," he whispered and kissed the top of her head.

"Perfect", she sighed before she fell drifted back into a deep sleep.


	5. You Know Where This Is Going

**5. You Know Where This Is Going**

"Tom!"

As he turned around, he saw Sybil running up to him through the snow. A wide smile spread across his face as the young woman jumped into his open arms and he swirled her around. Her clear laughter filled the winter air, her breath hot against his neck.

"Whoop! I'm getting dizzy", she exclaimed and he gently put her down. Her cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes sparkled. She stood up on her tiptoes and fiercely pressed her lips to his. He smiled against her kiss and a soft giggle escaped her throat.

As they made their way onto campus, he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. As he pressed his mouth into her unruly hair, his heart skipped in his chest. After four weeks of spending every waking minute together, she still made him feel giddy like a schoolboy. His head was swimming at just the sight of her. He could not remember ever being happier.

"My parents asked if I wanted to bring you home for Christmas," she mentioned casually as they walked up the snowy road to the university building. "Oh dear. That's what I thought", she grinned as she looked up to him.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"You look like someone ran over your dog. Don't worry, I haven't said I would."

They stopped at the door and Sybil kept her eyes trained on her boots. Her hands fiddled idly with her scarf. He could see the disappointment in her face.

"I'll come if you want me to", he said and rested his palm against her face.

"You will?" She was beaming up at him. "I would so love spending Christmas with everyone I love!" She crashed into a fierce embrace. She had said loved. He had heard it, clear as day. Better not to push it, he thought as he smiled and pulled her into a kiss.

"Shit, I'm late", she exclaimed as she drew away from him. "See you tonight? My place?" He nodded. She cupped his face for one last kiss and hurried off to another building on campus. As Tom went up to his temporary office, he could not stop smiling. She had as much as said that she loved him, hadn't she? Granted, she hadn't even noticed her slip of the tongue, but for now it was enough to make Tom feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He had never met a woman like Sybil before. She was a constant surprise. Always inquisitive, always keeping him on his toes. A free spirit. Every time he saw her, he was in awe of her beauty and wit all over again. Their flirtatious banter had become like their own secret language.

Christmas, well. Meeting her parents did indeed scare him a little. From what he had heard so far, they seemed very keen on Sybil making a great match one day. Surely a socialist journalist wasn't what they were hoping for, let alone one who lived in Ireland. On the other hand, the thought of spending Christmas with Sybil seemed to him the epitome of happiness.

Two weeks ago, he had discovered the most beautiful set of Jane Austen's novels while browsing the book shops. Remembering the worn, stained paperback copies she owned of her favourite novels, he instantly decided that this was his perfect first gift for her.

In the four weeks they had spent together – walking through the snowy world, cuddling and kissing, watching films and spending hours talking on the phone – he had been able to push away the thought of his eventual return to Ireland. For the most part at least. Every now and then, the painful realisation crept into his thoughts: He would not be with her forever. And yet he could not help feeling that this could not be all. He could not have found this woman just to lose her again. It felt like forever. She felt like forever.

* * *

><p>He rang the door bell, shifting his weight from foot to foot. It really was cold. He heard the buzz of the door and finally stepped into the warm building. Snow fell from his coat and shoes as he made his way up to Sybil's flat. They had barely spent any time at his temporary lodgings in a small hotel by the main road. Her place was much more comfortable. After spending the night together on their first date, all barriers between them had faded away. He had just held her all night and woken up next to her happier than ever. They had spent several nights together in the same fashion since then.<p>

Sometimes their passionate kissing and touching of each others bodies became so intense that he had to force himself to tear away. He knew Sybil appreciated his restraint and for now, God knows, it was enough that he could kiss her.

As Sybil opened the door, he saw that she was wearing slim jeans and a floaty deep red top. Her curly hair was brushed back and gleaming like black silk. Sybil smiled widely at him.

"For you, m'lady", he said and handed her a spray of snowdrops.

"Aww, poor things", she exclaimed looking at their drooping heads and shuffled off to the little kitchen in the corner to get some water. Tom closed the door behind him and took off his coat and scarf.

"I cooked, honey" she chirped with a wink and pulled two boxes of Chinese take-out from the fridge.

"Like a proper young lady", he replied in the same tone and sat down on her bed. With the flat being so small and not having a proper table, the bed had become their main residence. She heated up the food and brought over two plates to the bed.

"I wonder if there's a scientific explanation for why take-out tastes so much better re-heated", Sybil mused.

"Wrote a column about that just the other day", teased Tom and started on his noodles. They actually did taste better.

"So have you given some more thought to Christmas?" Sybil inquired casually. He could feel her carefully watching his reactions.

"You asked me to come and I'll come", Tom answered emphatically. "Of course it's daunting to meet your family. But I cannot wait to spend Christmas with you", he smiled and took her free hand into his.

"I'm glad. I'll tell Mama tomorrow. They cannot wait to inspect you", she teased.

_Not very helpful_, he thought. Now, he was twenty-eight years old and had met his share of girls' parents, but for some reason this was different. He had been much more confident before, at least that's what he seemed to remember. Possibly because the Crawleys appeared to be the scariest prospective in-laws yet. In-laws. He grinned.

"What's going on in that head of yours, I wonder", Sybil interrupted his contemplations.

"Not much, as always", he retorted with a wink and finished the rest of his noodles.

"You're sweet", Sybil noted affectionately and took their plates to the kitchen. She returned and sat down on his lap, despite the abundance of room on the bed. Her fingers played with the short hair at the back of his head. Her clear blue eyes looked intently into his and he felt like she could see right through him.

"I'm happy if you're happy. And you are, aren't you? To spend Christmas with everyone you... love." He looked down at her lap.

"I thought you might have noticed that", smiled Sybil thinking back to that morning and her slip of the tongue. "That was really awkward of me. And so not how I wanted to say it." She lifted up his chin and searched for his eyes. "But I do love you, Tom." Before Tom could say anything, she had softly pressed her lips against his. He was as surprised at the sensuality of the kiss as he had been at her declaration. He could hardly believe such a beautiful woman could be in love with him. But she was. And so was he. He needed her to know that. He gently pulled her away by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes.

"I knew I would love you from the moment you burst into that classroom". She smiled at the memory and leaned down to kiss him again.

Her hands pulled his hair now, her mouth moving against his more fiercely. They were lying beside each other on the bed and he let his hands slide to the small of her back, pressing her against him. Her tongue traced his lips and pushed harder against his.

"This is really uncomfortable", gasped Sybil as she pulled away and started struggling out of her tight trousers. Tom could not suppress a grin. "What?" inquired Sybil, throwing her jeans to the floor.

"I just thought, being so into women's rights and all, you might not be in the habit of shaving your legs," he teased with feigned relief and stroked the smooth skin of her calves.

"You are impossible", scolded Sybil mockingly and pulled Tom's ear.

She pulled off her shirt and crept back under the blanket. Tom wrapped his arms around her and traced his fingers along the outline of her underwear. His fingertips tingled with the sensation of electric currents shooting through them. Sybil moaned at the back of her throat.

"Sybil, hold on", interrupted Tom as she clasped her arms around him for another passionate kiss.

"Why?" she gasped.

"You know where this is going", he said and stroked her bare back. Her skin was so soft. Shivers went up and down his spine.

"I know. I want to", whispered Sybil and pushed her hands underneath his shirt. Her fingers made their way up to his chest which was barely able to contain his pounding hard.

"But that first evening you said you wanted to wait... until..."

She interrupted. "I know what I said. I wanted to wait until... this exact moment."

He looked at her quizzically. "What has changed at this exact moment?" he asked softly.

She looked deep into his eyes. "At this exact moment, I feel what I'd wanted to wait for. Like I'm..." She seemed to be searching for the right word.

"Like you're what?" he asked and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yours", she whispered and pressed her lips against his.

* * *

><p>When Tom woke up the next morning, everything had changed. If he had thought he could not fall any deeper in love with her, he had been proved wrong. She was still asleep, breathing softly against his chest. Her raven hair stroked her bare shoulders. Tom rested his head on his hand and watched the girl he loved sleeping in his arms. He did not think he could possibly be happier than in this moment. Gently, he ran his fingers over her cheek, her neck, her arm. He could not imagine losing her. And yet, the day he would crept closer and closer. A sharp pain tore at his heart. She was the one, he was sure.<p>

Sybil opened her blue eyes tentatively and a wide smile crossed her face. "Good morning", she muttered huskily and huddled against his chest. Her warm skin against his sent all sorts of sensations up and down his body.

"Good morning", he breathed and wrapped her into a warm embrace. And even though his mind knew better, his heart told him that this was the moment where the rest of his life began.

* * *

><p><em>Note: Half time, everyone. I'm so in love with all your wonderful reviews. Thank you!<em>


	6. Get Away

**6. Get Away**

When they pulled up the generous gravel drive, the snow crunching under the Renault's tyres, Tom could not believe his eyes. "Shit!" he exclaimed at the sight of the large manor house of sandy brick and more windows than Tom could count. "You might've told me that your family is filthy rich", he said accusingly and looked over to Sybil. She took his hand and brushed her lips against it. A smile so sweet crossed her face that he could not even feign being mad at her. He leaned over and returned the favour with a small kiss on the tip of her nose. She giggled and stuck out her tongue. "_Lady_ Sybil indeed", he muttered and stepped out of the car.

Noticing how nervous Tom was, Sybil rubbed his arm and took his hand reassuringly as they walked up to the main door. Tom took a deep breath. His heart was beating hard in his chest. What would her parents be like? Would they accept him as Sybil's boyfriend? Would they think her too good for him? _He_ did.

"Don't worry, my love. It'll be fine. Anyway, Granny will be there, you will love her. She always says the funniest things." Sybil snickered and stretched to give him a peck on the cheek before ringing the bell."

"Miss Sybil". A tall elderly man opened the door and took Sybil's suitcase. "How nice to see you. We haven't seen you in a while." Sybil nodded apologetically.

"I know. Thank you, Carson. How is everyone?" she inquired.

"Very well, very well. They're all very excited to meet your young man, I gather." He turned to Tom and extended his hand. "Carson".

Tom looked at him quizzically. "Branson", he replied and heard Sybil chuckle next to him. Carson huffed and turned away to take up the luggage. "You have a bleeding butler?" whispered Tom as they followed Caron upstairs.

"Sorry", mouthed Sybil, suppressing a smile.

After a quick freshening-up and settling into their – obviously separate – rooms, Tom and Sybil made their way downstairs. Sybil stopped in front of a heavy, ornamented door. "Here we go?" she asked and looked up at him.

"Here we go", he repeated and quickly brushed his lips against her forehead. They were received by excited chatter and bustle. "Sybil, my darling", shrieked a dark-haired woman – he recognised her mother from the picture – and pulled Sybil into a hug. "Finally, I thought we'd never see you again!" she said accusingly. Tom was surprised to hear her American accent. Sybil had told him so much about her family but this she had neglected to mention.

"Really mother, you know how busy I am at school", replied Sybil affectionately. She pulled out of the embrace and went over to the grey-haired portly man Tom knew was her father. "Papa", Sybil said and kissed his cheek.

The door burst open and in came Sybil's sisters, Mary and Edith. "Sybil", they exclaimed in unison and went on to hug their youngest sister between them.

All the while, Tom was standing in the room not knowing what to do. He looked around the large room which was covered in expensive furnishings and drawings. Originals he assumed. 'Rich folk', he thought to himself. How glad he was that Sybil set no store by these things.

"Now, Mr Branson." Sybil's father crossed the room and extended his hand.

"Tom, please", replied Tom and shook his hand. Bloody hard grip that man had.

"Tom", Mr Crawley repeated somewhat uncomfortably but did not offer his first name. Mrs Crawley and Sybil's sister greeted him kindly.

"Where's Granny?" asked Sybil after they had been sitting in the large room for a while. They had inquired after her studies and her hospital work, but not much had been said to Tom.

"Taylor has gone to fetch her", replied Mrs Crawley. _Great. A bleeding chauffeur as well_. Tom rolled his eyes at Sybil and she smirked, knowing his thoughts.

"Now, Tom", said Mr Crawley and turned to face him. "Sybil tells us you're a journalist?" Tom was flustered by the sudden attention.

"I am, Sir. I work for the _Dublin Times_. Politics." Mr Crawley nodded.

"And don't you miss Ireland?" he inquired.

"Not particularly, no" replied Tom and smiled at Sybil lovingly. He did not even want to think about leaving her.

"Granny", exclaimed Sybil and jumped to her feet. An elderly woman had entered the room. She wore a long violet dress and balanced an elaborate hat on top of her grey hair.

"Sybil, dear", she said and patted her granddaughter's cheek. "Now, let me see this beau of yours." Right to the point, Tom liked that. "Well, well, well", the old lady uttered as she said down next to Tom. "I see. Very handsome indeed. Like one of the chaps from the movies." Sybil's grandmother had passed her judgement. And without speaking a single word to him. Tom grinned at Sybil.

"_Very_ handsome", she repeated and gave Tom one of her goofy winks.

* * *

><p>After dinner, Tom went out into the garden. He pulled his scarf tighter around his neck and breathed in the clear winter air. Snowdrops were lining the path, their heads drooping under their heavy white blanket. He had really needed the air. How exhausting such a big family was. All that chatter. The two elder sisters quibbling over vanities. Mr Crawley asking him about his interests.<p>

"Politics, well. I hope you aren't one of those revolutionaries" he had huffed.

"No, Sir", Tom had replied. Sir, he kept calling him for some reason. Sybil's mother and grandmother were nice enough. But it struck Tom that probably none of them expected to ever see him again. He would leave for Ireland soon, right? And their precious youngest daughter would find an appropriate man to marry. A rich man. A man she didn't love.

Tom pushed the snow from left to right with his boot. Sybil would not marry another man. He wouldn't let her. She belonged to him. And somehow they would make it work. Tom smiled to himself and turned back to the house. Maybe he could find Sybil, sneak her off for a private moment or two. Tell her how much he loved her. As he went up to the back door, he could hear her voice. She was in the room to the right where a door stood ajar. But she was not alone. He recognised the voice of her eldest sister Mary.

"Sybil, please", he could hear her clearly as he moved closer. "You cannot be serious." He could see Sybil through the crack of the door.

"What do you mean, not serious? I've never been more serious in my life!" His girl looked positively livid.

"He's a journalist, Sybil. For God's sake, he's Irish! And not exactly well off by the looks of him." Tom looked down at his clothes. What did she mean? He'd gotten all dressed up for the evening.

"Don't be so bloody high and mighty, Mary. And you know I don't care about such things as money!" snarled Sybil.

"Oh darling, darling. Don't be such a baby. This isn't fairy land. What did you think, you'd move to Ireland and we'd all fly over for tea?" Mary looked at her accusingly.

"Why not? I cannot wait to get away from this house, away from this life!"

Mary shook her head disappointedly. "What and burn all your bridges?"

Sybil grinned grimly and got up. "Fetch me the bloody matches."

As Sybil came storming out of the room, she crashed into Tom who was still standing outside. "Tom", she exclaimed in surprise. He could see tears glistening on her cheeks. "Did you...? You didn't hear, did you?" she asked anxiously.

"I did", he replied quietly.

"I'm so sorry." She flung herself against his chest and buried her head in his coat. "Don't listen to her. She's just jealous."

Tom sighed. "She's only saying what everyone in that house is thinking."

Sybil shook her head and pressed her lips against his. "I don't care", she breathed. "I love you so much."

They walked through the glistening snow together, hands entwined, her head resting against his shoulder. "I have to say, I did like what you said about the matches", he said by way of consolation. Would she really give up her life to be with him?

"I meant it, you know" she said as if she had read his thoughts. "But I don't see how. I mean, school and all that... Believe me, if it were only about this... this stupid life, I'd be on a plane to Ireland right now."

He grinned. "Then you'd be in Ireland and I'd be here. What good would that be?" Sybil looked at him disapprovingly and a smile crossed her face. He had succeeded.

* * *

><p>She had loved his present. At the sight of the beautiful editions of her favourite novels, she had shrieked like a little child and jumped into his arms, not a care in the world for her disapproving family watching. In all fairness, after the conversation he had overheard, Sybil had offered to just leave and go home. But he knew that in her heart, she wanted to spend Christmas with her family. Who was he to ruin that? They were very civil to him but he could only imagine what they were saying behind his back.<p>

All in all, he could not say he was sorry when their four-day stay came to an end. As Carson put the suitcases into the rental car - he had insisted on this honour - the entire family flocked outside to wave goodbye to their youngest. Tom had civilly shaken everybody's hand, received the obligatory invitations to return and wishes for the future, and was now watching as Sybil made her goodbyes. Her behaviour towards her eldest sister had been icy for the remainder of their stay. Now Mary hugged Sybil to her and whispered something in her ear but Sybil only shook her head and pulled away. Her father looked at her very earnestly. This wasn't the last Sybil would hear about it, Tom was sure of that.

They pulled out of the driveway and Sybil took Tom's hand in hers. "Well. That was horrible. I'm sorry." He shook his head. She was so beautiful, the way she looked out of the window, her black hair glistening, her blue eyes full of sadness. "Don't even try to defend them. They don't deserve it. There is no excuse for their behaviour." Tom didn't even want to know what they had said to her when he hadn't been around. Probably implored her to rethink. Told her not to throw away her life. Told her there would be no more money.

He sighed. "I told them I would not give you up", she said emphatically. Her way of reading his mind had become positively occult.

"We will make this work, Sybil. I know we will". Finally a tiny smile crept up to her face. She leaned over and put her head on his shoulder.

"We will", she sighed and closed her eyes.


	7. See You Soon

**7. See You Soon**

Three months had passed way too quickly. They had spent every waking minute with each other and still it was not enough. Tom needed more of her. They had fallen in love much faster and much deeper than he had ever thought possible. After three months, Tom felt like he would never find a woman like Sybil again. He didn't want to.

But since their drive back from the Crawleys' house, they had never brought up the topic of their future again. Although Tom was constantly aware of the imminent end to their dream state, he did his best to push the thought from his mind when they were together. Why ruin the time they did have?

Being with her made him happier than he had ever been. He loved everything about her. Her wit, her spirit, her kindness. Even her clumsiness, which he had become very effective about, now picking up things for her as soon as she had dropped them. Tom smiled at the memory of their first meeting. She had burst into his life like a force of nature.

Could it really have been three months already? Tom sighed. Tonight was their last night together before he left for Ireland the next day. And they still needed to talk about where they would go from here. As the day had gotten closer, an uneasiness had befallen Sybil's behaviour towards him. She insisted on his staying every night at her flat, so much so that he had checked out of his hotel early and moved in with her for the last few weeks. She would never let go of his hand, whether they were walking, driving or sitting together.

He could see the sadness in her eyes whenever he looked at her and became aware that the thought of him leaving was always present in her mind. He did his best to distract her but sometimes she would pull him to her suddenly and clasp her hands around his neck. "I won't let you go", she'd whisper and he stroked her hair. He so wanted to make her feel better but he knew he had no choice but to return to his job, his life in Ireland.

He felt her presence behind him as he folded his last shirt neatly into the suitcase. "Packing already?" she said quietly. Tom turned around to face her.

"You're home early", he said and moved to stand in front of his luggage. "I thought I'd get it out of the way before you come back."

Sybil looked at him with sad eyes. "I rushed home. It's our last night." Like he needed to be reminded. He crossed the room in three swift steps and swept Sybil up in his arms.

"We need to talk", he said when they had sat down, their dinner growing cold on the desk. Sybil held his hands. She would not let go of him.

"I know", whispered Sybil.

"What do you want to do?" asked Tom honestly. Maybe straight-forward was the way to go here.

"I know what I _don't_ want to do", said Sybil with a grim smile.

"And what's that?" He nudged her encouragingly.

"Let you go tomorrow? I was thinking about tying you up, what do you think?" There she was again. His sweet, funny, flirtatious Sybil.

He snickered. "Tie me up? But M'Lady, whatever would you want to do with me?" Sybil laughed and raised her eyebrows provocatively. But too soon the moment passed and the dark shadow returned to her face. He looked deep into her blue eyes.

"I don't want to lose you", she said flatly.

"Then don't!" He jumped up and knelt in front of her. "Don't. We can do this. Long distance. Loads of people do."

"Are you sure? I don't know if I can stand not seeing you every day", sighed Sybil.

"Neither can I", exclaimed Tom. "But losing you forever sounds infinitely worse, don't you think?"

Sybil's face lit up. "Yes. Yes, it does. You're right. We can do this. I just need to hurry up with school." She nodded and Tom wondered whether she was trying to convince him or herself. But for now, it was good enough. For now, it meant that she would stay his.

He sat on the bed and pulled Sybil onto his lap. He was sure that they had made the right decision. If this girl wasn't worth waiting for, who was? He would wait. They would still see each other over the holidays. It was Ireland after all, not the end of the world. Tom was ridiculously happy to see Sybil smile again. The brightness had almost returned to her beautiful blue eyes as her gaze burned into his.

He pulled her down for a kiss and she returned it hungrily, their tongues entering into a passionate dance. Her hands moved underneath his shirt and he stretched his arms provocatively. She giggled and removed the shirt over his head. "So, about that tying up..." she teased with a saucy smile.

"Never", breathed Tom and by way of explanation, his hands started exploring every inch of her body.

"Good choice", she muttered against his skin and pulled him down onto the bed.

* * *

><p>Sybil had borrowed her friend Anna's car to take Tom to the airport. He had already returned the Renault in the morning. It was an especially cold and cloudy February afternoon when they pulled into the airport car park. The windows were clouded in steam and Tom could hardly see out. Not that he had a particular wish to look outside into a world that would no longer have her in it.<p>

Sybil turned off the engine and they sat in silence. "Tom..." she began but he interrupted her.

"Sybil, we can do this. It's only a few years. We can do this long distance thing, I know we can." He knew that she had doubts and he could not even blame her for it. Only a few years, he had said. Three years. He could not think how they would do it, but he knew that he could not just give her up. He had only just found her.

She nodded silently. "Yes", she breathed but he was not convinced.

"Don't give up on me. I will do anything to make this work. Just bet on me."

A smile crossed her face. "I do." She leaned over to kiss him. As their lips touched, he felt like his heart was about to shatter into a million little pieces. He cupped her face with his hands and pressed against her lips more forcefully. She breathed against his mouth and her hands all but tore at his hair.

As they pulled away, Tom wrapped his arms around Sybil so tightly that a gasp escaped her throat. But instead of releasing herself from him, she clasped her arms around his neck and crushed him against her. He could feel her breath on his neck. He never wanted to let her go.

"Don't go", she whispered and he could hear the tears in her voice. When he pulled away to look at her, he saw them streaming freely down her face.

"I have to", he said and his voice failed him.

"I won't come inside with you. I can't, I'm sorry", she said huskily. He nodded. He knew how she felt. He would not know how to let her go either.

She held onto his hand until it was time for him to leave. "It'll only be a few months until you can visit", he said. "And we'll talk on the phone all the time." He was trying to reassure himself as much as her.

"I love you so much, Tom." She brushed her lips against his for one last time. A tear trickled down his cheek.

"I love you, too." He stroked her cheek and stepped out of the car. Before he could change his mind, he hurried away, tears now pouring from his eyes. What if that was it? It couldn't be. He would see her again.

* * *

><p>And see her again, he did. "Tom!" he heard a voice shout behind him as he stood in line to get his ticket. Her voice. He would know it anywhere. He whipped around to see her running up to him. They crashed against each other so forcefully that he had to take a couple of steps back to regain his balance. Her lips crushed against his. He smiled against her kiss and lifted her up. She buried her face in his neck and a small laugh tickled his skin.<p>

"I just couldn't let you go without a proper goodbye" she explained, a smile crossing her tear-stained face.

At the gate, he finally let go of her hand. She stood looking and waving to him all the way through security. Before he disappeared around the corner to lose sight of her for good, he turned back to give her a smile of optimism. They would make it through this. "See you soon", he shouted and she smiled back at him.

"See you soon", she mouthed and he turned the corner.


	8. A Hard Sacrifice

**8. A Hard Sacrifice**

"Syb?" Tom called into the empty room. "Sybil? It's time to go."

She came up behind him. "I'm here. Almost ready", she said and hurried to the bed where she had laid out her packed backs. She stuffed some items into the smaller one. The toothbrush that had been sitting next to his for the last three weeks. Her shampoo bottle. Her brush. Every little piece of her was to be removed from his flat. She sighed. "That's the last of it, I think." Tom nodded as Sybil scuttled off to check the bathroom again.

There they were again. Another goodbye. A longer one this time. Three months at the very least. Sybil could not afford to visit during the term and Tom was pretty caught up in his work himself. These separations were hard to bear but the time they spent together made up for it tenfold. At least it did for Tom. He didn't know how Sybil felt. She had become quiet. The time apart got to her more than she led on.

Sometimes talking on the phone was hard. When they had not been able to get a hold of each other for three days – he was always working, Sybil always out – Tom had been seriously afraid for their relationship. Tensions ran high and little problems were magnified and blown out of proportion by the distance between them. More than once had they fought on the phone, with Tom losing his temper and Sybil hanging up in tears. Sometimes it was the other way around.

But when he had picked her up from the airport, Sybil flying into his arms and both crying from happiness, he had remembered why they were doing it. Because they loved each other. Because their future was worth waiting for. He only wished he could show her how important she was to him even when they were separated by hundreds of miles. That he was worth all her tears.

During the three weeks of her stay, they had only left the flat when they had been forced to do so. Tom had taken time off from work so that he only had to work on two of their precious days together. During the time he was gone, Sybil had worked her magic on his flat. When he came back, she had made it her own. "The Sybil do-over", as she mockingly called it, involved colourful drapes, a new order to his books and records and, most importantly, a beautifully framed photograph of the two of them.

He remembered when they had had it taken by an old couple in the park. The snow was glistening on the trees in the background and both of them had flushed cheeks and the widest smiles. They looked incredibly happy. And they had been. All Tom had been thinking when he had handed the elderly man his camera was, that fifty years from now, the two of them would be like this couple. And they would still be happy and more in love than ever.

Tom smiled now, taking the picture from his bedstead. He traced his finger along the outline of photo-Sybil's cheeks. He would miss her so much. Time had a way of speeding up when she was with him and slowing down to a painful crawl when she was gone. More than ever, his days seemed to revolve around the thought of her. When they would talk again, when she could visit. She was like a drug to him, he could never seem to think of anything else.

* * *

><p>"I can take a taxi to the airport, it's really not a problem", said Sybil casually and looked out of the window. Why did she not want him to drive her all of a sudden?<p>

"I'll drive you, as I said I would", replied Tom rather harshly. "I'm sorry." Sybil still had her back turned at him.

"Don't be. I'd just really prefer a taxi. Please?" Something was definitely up. Tom went up to her and looked at her. He was afraid of what might be going on in her head.

Sybil pushed the bags off the bed and sat down. "Sit with me", she whispered and Tom's heart sank. He sat down next to her. He had known that something was wrong. She had been so quiet the last few days. She took his hands on both of hers. "Tom... I think we have been naive", she began.

"Sybil, don't. I know what you're going to say", interrupted Tom.

"Do you? Because you can't honestly tell me that you've been happy. I know I haven't. And you deserve so much more than this."

Tom shook his head vehemently. "More than this? How could I ever wish for more than you? You're the best thing that has ever happened to me!" He pressed her hands to his heart. A single tear trickled down her cheek.

"I know. So are you. But it's too hard." She looked down into her lap. "I know it'll be hard at first, but you will forget me. You will meet some nice Irish girl and you will marry her." Tom could see how much the thought pained her.

"How can you even think such a thing? I would never forget you. I love you... Do _you _want to meet someone else?" His reproach sounded bitter and he regretted it as soon as he had said it.

"I'm doing this because I think it's the best thing for both of us. Believe me, I don't want to leave you." She was crying now.

He brushed the tears from her cheeks. "Then don't. Stay. There are universities here, good universities. You can finish your degree here. We can live together. We can... get married."

She shook her head and let go of his hands. "And what about my family?"

Tom huffed. "I know they would be mad at first but I'm not asking you to give them up forever. And when they come around, I will welcome them with open arms."

"No", exclaimed Sybil hotly and stood up. Her cheeks were flushed.

Tom could not think straight. "It's your family. I should have known. They have turned you against me, haven't they?" He was hurt at the thought of Sybil having let them poison her mind against their relationship. "Go back then. If you think they will make you happier than I can." Tears burned in his eyes as his fingers fiddled with the buttons of the pillowcase.

"Am I so weak you think I can be talked out of giving my heart in five minutes flat?" asked Sybil disappointedly. Tom immediately regretted his outburst.

"Don't do it then. Don't go. Fight for us. Please", Tom implored her.

"You don't know what you're asking of me", she replied with a trembling voice. "You're asking me to give up my whole world, and everyone in it. I love my parents. You don't know them. And I love my sisters and my friends..." Her voice failed her and she turned to face the wall. Tom jumped to his feet and turned her around by the hip.

"Sometimes a hard sacrifice must be made for a future that's worth having. That's up to you." He stared deep into her blue eyes. She held his gaze and moved in closer as though she was going to kiss him.

"I'm sorry, Tom", she whispered. "I just can't do this." She turned on her heel, picked up her bags and walked to the door. "Please don't call me. It'll only make it harder." She stopped to look back at him and he could see tears streaming down her beautiful face.

"Sybil." In three swift steps he had crossed the room and swept her up in his arms. When they kissed, they both seemed to never want to let go. She tore her lips from his and put her mouth against his ear.

"I love you so much", she whispered. Then she let go of him and rushed out of the room. The door closed behind her. And just like that, Sybil Crawley walked out of his life as quickly as she had burst into it.


	9. Step Out of the Office

**9. Step Out of the Office**

Tom woke up with a start. He shielded his eyes against the sunlight pouring in through the curtains. This was his favourite part of the day, these few precious moments of disorientation, before his memories came flooding back and with them all of the ache and all of the hurt. A tear rolled down his cheek. He had dreamt of her again.

Two years had passed since she had walked out of his life and still he dreamt of her almost every night. When he woke up to realise she wasn't there, the darkness taking over his heart was blinding. And all he felt was emptiness. Emptiness that would not be quelled by alcohol, not by women. And not for lack of trying. His pain ran much deeper than that.

Tom got out of bed, and tore open the curtains. It was a surprisingly sunny day. He wasn't used to many of those here. Going through the motions, he fixed himself breakfast, took a shower and got dressed. What the hell had happened to him? He used to be such a lively, outgoing bloke. Now he could barely bring himself to go out with his mates on a Friday night. She had really ruined him.

But wishing he had never met her? Cursing her name? He had tried that, too. Needless to say, it had not worked. Every fibre of his being ached for the woman he had met what now seemed like ages ago. Tom looked at himself in the mirror. His face was haggard, his blue eyes were blank. _Nothing going on there_, he thought to himself and smiled bitterly. Maybe he had given the booze a good try after all. But drinking alone at home was probably the least helpful way to go about it.

As he made his way to the office, he was annoyed by the cheerfulness of the people on the street. One ray of sunlight and they all acted like the bloody carnival had come to town. Tom was ashamed of his thoughts as soon as they'd made their way into the labyrinth of his brain. He had become an ill-tempered old grouch way before his time.

Tom went up to his office and sat down at his desk. It was almost giving out from the weight of unfinished articles and the work of his colleagues waiting to be edited. He had never known that journalists could have writer's block. How he had held on to his job for so long, he had no idea. Maybe the paper's more cynical readers enjoyed his embittered columns on social equality. After all, being mad about something is what made people happiest. Ill-tempered old grouch.

He took up one of the articles from his desk and began working on it. He wondered if he would ever be able to fully concentrate on anything again. After a while, he put down the paper and buried his head in his hands.

The phone rang. He picked up the receiver and his mate Declan from the front desk started shouting in his ear. "Top of the morning to you! You might want to step out of the office for a second, if it's no bother!" Declan was quite the character. Tom could not help smiling at his friend's ever-positive nature.

"Why, what's up, Dec?" asked Tom and removed the receiver an inch from his ear. He rather liked his eardrums intact.

"There is a... lady... down here to see you", Declan explained in a surprisingly quiet voice. Presumably the aforementioned lady was standing right in front of him.

"Shite, it's not Siobhan, is it?" whispered Tom. Though who might hear him up here, he had no idea. Certainly not Siobhan, the clingy little thing he had gone out with once or twice but been avoiding to call back for the last few weeks. Rather unkind of him, he knew that, but he just could not think of what to say. That he was still hung up on a girl from two years ago?

"Nope. English lass. Pretty, too", Declan whispered on the other end.

"Down in a sec", said Tom surprised. He did not know many people from England. There was a horrible second cousin but, for the life of him, he could not think why she would visit him.

"Where is she?" he asked as he reached the front desk.

"Outside. Took your sweet time", muttered Declan and hit Tom hard in the shoulder.

"Eegit", laughed Tom and went outside to meet his mystery visitor. As he stepped out the door, the blinding sunlight hit him. He shielded his eyes as out of the glistening light stepped the silhouette of a young woman.

"Tom", Sybil said hoarsely.

* * *

><p><em>Note: Only a short one today. It was meant to be one long chapter but I fear I just couldn't resist the "cliffhanger à la Downton". Last installment tomorrow.<em>


	10. I'd Wait Forever

**10. I'd Wait Forever**

"Sybil", replied Tom, his voice shaky.

For the past two years he had thought he had perfectly hardened his heart against anything. Who had he been fooling? He felt like an imaginary fist was clenching his heart, pressing harder and harder.

"I wondered what this moment would be like", said Sybil. "You look... different. You lost weight."

"You're the same", replied Tom, sounding colder than he had intended. And she was. The same Sybil. Dark, unruly curls. Bright blue eyes. Smooth skin. She was wearing a loose dress with a floral print. She looked more beautiful than he remembered.

"Thanks, I guess? I don't feel the same. I feel... older." She looked down at her feet.

"Well, you don't look it." He meant it as a compliment but again his voice betrayed his bitterness. Sybil looked up at him. He could see tears starting to form in her eyes.

"You must hate me", she whispered and her voice cracked. It was unfair. He should be mad at her. He should not be wanting to go over to her, hug her against his chest, never let her go. But he needed to know why she had come. She was the one who had told him not to contact her. And by God, had he come close. But wanting to respect her wish had won out in the end.

"Sybil, what are you doing here?" he asked, straining to make his voice sound warmer.

"Can we maybe go somewhere to talk? Your place?" She looked positively frightened of what his reaction might be. He was going to decline her offer but looking into her sad, beautiful face, he could not bear the thought of hurting her.

"Let me just check", he said and without another word, he made his way up to the office. He didn't have to check anything. He always came and left as he chose, depending on his work load. He just wanted a minute to himself. To process everything. Up in his office, he closed the door and slumped against the wall. He forced himself to breathe in deeply. Sybil. She had always had a way of bursting in and making a mess of things, hadn't she? He needed to be careful. Their short encounter alone had brought him dangerously close to the feelings he had once had for her. Had. Not anymore. Definitely not. Tom buried his face in his hands. Steeling his heart against further injury would not be an easy task where this woman was concerned.

Tom stood up, gathering his thoughts. Another deep breath and he was on his way down again. At the front desk, Declan raised his eyebrows at him quizzically. "That her?" he mouthed and Tom nodded. Declan threw him a look of pity and then smiled encouragingly. So that's what had become of him. Someone to be pitied.

Tom stepped outside the building where Sybil was waiting for him anxiously. "I thought you might have changed you mind", she said relieved.

"No. Just had to take care of a few things." Tom nodded into the direction of his flat and went on ahead of Sybil. Take _care of a few things. Eegit. Take care of your mental state, more like_, Tom thought to himself. This was dangerous. He could feel it in his gut. And in his heart.

The short walk to his flat was accompanied by an uncomfortable silence. As he turned the key and let Sybil into his flat, everything in him screamed no. She would not stay. She had come to torment him like she had done in his dreams.

"This is nice", said Sybil, gesturing to the general direction of his living room. It was close to exactly the same as she had seen it two years ago. Except that he had reversed the "Sybil do-over". He had de-Sybilled his flat. He had to grin at the absurdities his brain was coming up with to cope with his world being turned upside down.

He needed something to do. "Coffee?" he asked uncomfortably and was grateful when Sybil nodded and gave him an excuse to go into the kitchen. When he came back with two cups, she had found a tiny space between his dirty laundry on the couch. "Sorry", he mumbled and picked up his clothes, only to throw them to the far side of the room. He definitely wasn't going to make an effort. He sat down next to her, careful to leave enough space for comfort.

"So... are you seeing someone?" asked Sybil casually. Nothing casual about the question though. He looked up, trying to read her intentions in her face. He had been much better at guessing her every thought once. Maybe she had gotten older after all. More mature. Had she missed him?

"No. Not really. Haven't found that nice Irish girl you told me to marry yet." Sybil looked hurt at the memory.

"Well. Neither am I. If you're interested." She looked so sad. Tom wanted to put his arms around her and kiss her forehead. Kiss her nose. Kiss her mouth. Kiss her...

When he looked up, he saw his expression mirrored in her face. Their eyes interlocked like the first time they had seen each other. And suddenly, everything fell away. All the pain and bitterness was gone. The two years of agony were gone. There was only Sybil, beautiful like she had always been. She looked at him with such longing that he had no choice but to slide over to her. It took only moments for them to close the gap between them on the couch, the gap between their lips.

They kissed like they had never been parted from each other. It was like muscle memory. Tom remembered exactly where Sybil liked to be touched. Their lips moved against each other hungrily, their tongues exploring each other fiercely. He crushed her to him hard and she gasped. When she struggled free, Tom thought she might have changed her mind. But she only pulled her dress over her head in one swift movement and straddled Tom who was sitting upright to watch her undress. He touched her bare skin and the sensation was beyond belief. Sybil pulled off his shirt, laughing sweetly as it caught on his chin. Tom stood up, pulling her up with him and carried her to the bedroom.

He put her down on the bed and pulled off his trousers. She moaned deeply as he lay down on top of her, pinning her against the mattress. "Tom", she whispered and softly stroked his face. "I have missed you so much", she breathed before Tom closed his mouth upon hers. And as their bodies melted into each other, he felt like the blinding darkness had finally relinquished its hold on his heart.

* * *

><p>Tom looked at Sybil's ivory skin glistening in the sunlight. Her raven hair made her smooth skin look even paler. Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes closed against the light. She sighed and turned around. As she opened her eyes, her intensely blue gaze locked on him. She smiled. Tom's heart stopped. She was so beautiful. She always had been the most beautiful woman in the world to him.<p>

"I definitely, definitely didn't think _this_ was going to happen", she grinned.

"What did you think was going to happen? We'd go out for a cuppa and you'd fly back in the morning?" Tom turned over to lie on his back. _Damn you, Tom Branson. Just be nice for once. Like the man she used to know._

"I'm not going to fly back in the morning", Sybil said simply.

Tom sat up straight. "What?"

She looked at him nervously. "I thought maybe... I could stay a while."

"Define 'while'", Tom replied, careful not to let hope sneak in.

"I have to be back at uni in two weeks. To have my finals." Sybil sat up next to him and tucked the blanket around her shoulders.

"Sybil. What did you come for? Just tell me. You must know what this is doing to me." His heart was breaking at the thought of losing her a second time. He felt like he had barely survived the first. Looking at her, he realised that he was in much in love with her as ever. Like no time had passed at all. So much for not hoping.

"I'm so sorry." Tears welled up in her eyes. "I just needed to see you. So much." She brushed away a tear from her cheek and he wished he could have done it for her. "I have thought of you, every day. Every minute of every day."

"So have I." Tom breathed in deeply. No going back now. He could not let her go again, he had to hold on to his happiness this time. "Are you going to leave me again?" he asked, hopeful and desperately afraid of her answer at the same time. So she _had_ missed him as much as he had missed her.

"I have to. But it won't be long now." Sybil's eyes caught sight of a picture sitting on a small table in the corner. Their picture. Happy faces, snow. "You kept it", she smiled but he would not let her get away so easily.

"I know what it is. I know you're too scared to admit it, but you're still in love with me", Tom said emphatically and forced Sybil to look him in the eye.

"I'm not", she whispered. His heart sank. He felt like he had taken a blow into his abdomen and all the breath had been knocked out of him.

When Sybil noticed her mistake, she flushed a deep crimson. "No, Tom, I didn't mean that! I just meant I'm not too scared. I do still love you. I never stopped, not for a second."

What Tom felt at this moment could not be put into words. A relief so profound flooded his body that he struggled to keep breathing. He gasped and Sybil smiled at him affectionately.

"You silly man. Of course I love you. It's why I came. To..." She stopped and looked down to the ground again. Tom cupped her face in his hands and gently raised her chin. He smiled at her encouragingly. "...to ask you to wait. Wait for me, Tom", she said, her voice brimming with love.

Tom felt like his heart was about to burst for love of her. "I'd wait forever", he breathed and pulled her into a never-ending kiss.

* * *

><p><em>The End. For now. I don't know if it's worth going on, what do you think? Maybe to deal some more with her family's opposition but poor HMS Branson have probably been through enough already.<em>


End file.
